Sweet Souls & Sore Losers
by Dumbledoor
Summary: Random one-shots, set in a happy time where Voldemort and the war are just distant histories—will continue to add in the future. Sometimes they're in school, sometimes they're not. Draco/Hermione, Ron/Daphne
1. Hermione

JK Rowling owns _Harry Potter_.

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><p>The Slytherin Prince and the Gryffindor Princess<p>

"Draco, people are staring." He was leading her with one hand at the small of her back, past the onlookers and whisperers of the party. It wasn't a big celebration, but the Slytherin common room was crowded enough that everyone they passed, they passed within a short distance (brooking no argument that indeed this _was_ Hermione Granger walking closely with Draco Malfoy).

He gave Hermione a grin, irritating her by how offhandedly he handled the blatant attention.

"As long as they're invited, they're free to stare." He punctuated that statement by nodding towards his friend, Theodore Nott, who raised his glass with a wink before resuming an otherwise tedious conversation with Daphne Greengrass.

They were nearing the stairs to the dormitories, which would surely end everyone's speculation as to exactly how close Draco and Hermione had gotten over their seventh year at school. Hermione felt her face burn with the impending implication. She tugged backwards, which did nothing to delay his strides.

"But don't you think you should stay here a _bit_ longer? It's not even ten yet, and Harry hasn't arrived, what about your present? You're the host, shouldn't you be—"

He twirled her in front of him, cutting off her argument with a gasp. He took hold of both her shoulders, taking delight in the way her brown eyes widened. "First of all, this is a graduation party; I won't be getting a present." He grinned. "Well, unless it's from you, of course."

She tried to scowl, but her nervousness wouldn't let her. Off to the side, Parvati and Padma were whispering, giggling about her. She could tell.

"Secondly," his amused voice brought her back to him, "if you're feeling scared, just say so."

"I'm not scared," she said. Pure instinct.

"Your eyes tell me otherwise."

An 'ahem' sort of cough behind her ended the moment. It was Harry, who looked at the two in confusion.

"Hermione? Everything all right?" He gave Draco a raised eyebrow when all she did was nod. "Malfoy?"

"We were just talking, Potter. Nothing to worry about." He had let go of her shoulders, and for the first time, Hermione saw signs of hesitance on his face. She decided to focus on Harry instead.

"Yes, Harry. How are you? And what happened to your tie?"

Harry's tie was knotted in an impossible pattern, almost as if it was done recklessly on purpose. She grappled with it a bit but the bloody thing was tangled so tightly. Harry put his hand on top of hers to stop her, and it confused Hermione when she saw him blushing red.

"Leave it, Hermione. It's fine, really. I'll fix it later."

"If you say so."

"Yeah. I have to go anyway."

"What?" She looked at Draco, who gave no signs of leaving the two a moment alone. "But you just got here! What do you mean leave? Where's Ron?"

"Trying to strike a conversation with Daphne, I reckon." He gestured to where Nott was still standing with Daphne. This time, their friend was trying to butt in the conversation. Ron, blushing like a tomato, was offering the girl a drink, to which she only responded with a smirk before turning back to Nott.

"Going well I see," commented Draco.

Harry looked at the clock. "Yes. I guess I'll get going then." Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Why?"

"It's nothing." The blush was back. He was hiding something. "I'm just... not in the mood."

"Do you want me to come with you? Do you want to talk about it?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "No. You and, uh, Malfoy just keep chatting. I'm just going to bed. Bye, Hermione. Malfoy." With an insisting tug, he was out of there.

Hermione and Draco shared a look. Odd.

"Right. Well, I'm sure there's a boring story to that."

This time she really did scowl. "Sometimes I really wonder why I put up with you."

He sighed a long, heavy sigh. "You know I don't mean it like that."

"It's just.."

"What?"

"How will I tell Harry and Ron? Honestly, I can't keep this from them for long," mumbled Hermione. She couldn't picture herself telling her two best friends how she had fallen for Draco Malfoy. Sure, there was no more bad blood between them, but for the life of her she could not see how they were going to take it. It was more than their history—it was simple insecurity. It was ridiculous and she'd never felt more like a teenager than she did at that moment.

This gave him pause.

"You won't have to tell them anything," he said softly, surprising her.

"What do you mean?"

He placed a hand on her cheek. The other one slid around her waist and pushed against her back, pulling her closer.

He took his time examining her, surmising the looks they were surely getting. Slowly closing his eyes, he went for it. He kissed her and Hermione swore she heard someone squeal.


	2. Hermione (2)

One-Shot.

—

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><p>The Birthday Party<p>

"I admit, Granger, I think I'm not minding your company as much as I'd thought I would."

"Keep talking like that and I'll understand why a guy like you will be perpetually single _not_ by choice."

We were murmuring with cups held in front of our mouths, covering up our conversation. Of course, I didn't think we'd fooled _all_ the party guests. Ginny in particular looked ready to fling away a right eyebrow from raising it every time she looked my way.

"Speak for your perpetually single self, Granger. I came with a date." He motioned behind him, as if pointing to the rest of the room would alert me as to who his date was.

Teddy's party was held at a fancy restaurant, fancy enough that Teddy himself would not appreciate a swanky place like this until he turned of age. At least the red and yellow streamers made this place more kid-appropriate. Not to mention the repeating tune of "Happy Birthday"with adorable zoo animal noises.

I saw Neville approach from the doorway across the room. I raised my hand to beckon him over, to which Malfoy immediately frowned.

"Longbottom? Really? You're going to invite him over for a conversation?"

He was now halfway across the room.

I spoke through my grin. "He's a nice friend I haven't seen much lately. Plus he gets rid of you."

He grimaced. "We'll see. He may not be afraid of me anymore, but I reckon I can annoy him at the very least."

"Neville!"

"Hermione." He kissed my cheek. To my ear, he quickly whispered, "What 'ya doin' with _him_?"

I didn't answer but just pulled back, still smiling wide. "Neville, how is Hogwarts?"

Neville gave Malfoy a glance, as if to ascertain that he will just be ignored for now. Then he answered with cordial responses, letting small talk continue for a few minutes.

Then, somewhere in the middle of a pause, Malfoy interjected. "So, Longbottom. Lovegood tells me you're thinking of proposing soon. When's the big day?"

Neville blushed bright red. "Uh. Sh-she knows?" He looked back and forth between Malfoy and me.

"Malfoy!" Then, to Neville, "She only speculates, Neville. You know how she is."

In truth, Luna was 100% sure that Neville was going to propose because she found a velvet box at their apartment ("I think he forgot where he placed them. It contained a note, you see, that said he was supposed to propose last Friday.").

"But. It was supposed to be a surprise." Neville looked ready to cry.

"Yes I'm sure it was," added Malfoy, and I could almost hear him laughing in his head.

Neville looked hopelessly at Luna, who was laughing with former Ravenclaws.

No one said anything for a while. After a few more seconds, Neville left.

"Look what you did," I said.

"Don't blame me. The whole lot of you are awkward."

"Then _leave_. Shoo."

"Well I certainly won't listen to you."

"Fine."

"Fine by me."

I huffed. There wasn't really anyone else I'd talk to that I hadn't already.

"I think you're irked because you haven't told anyone about _that night_, even though you're dying to."

"The plan was to not tell!" I said quickly, too surprised that he guessed so correctly (but not in the way he thought).

"I thought it was to not bring the topic up whenever _we_ see each other."

He raised an eyebrow. He had me there. But it couldn't possibly mean he'd gossip about me to his friends, could it?

"So when Zabini winked at me before, he knew about you and me... "

"I know you Gryffindors think you're the bees' knees, but people like Zabini don't greet you like that unless they have something amusing (or disturbing) against you."

His date came through the door just then. She saw Malfoy, gave a little wave, and motioned for Malfoy to come over.

"That's Emily. She works for the Daily Prophet." He raised his glass her way.

"She's calling you over." When he didn't respond to that, I said, "Is she a writer?"

"Does she look like a writer to you?"

"I was being polite."

"Don't be. It really doesn't suit you."

He finished his drink. Looking over at Emily, he once again acknowledged her beckon (now with an added attitude) then turned to me.

"How cute, she's giving you your cue to leave," I remarked, instigating an irritated sneer from him.

Without another word, he walked over to her and they exited the restaurant.

I downed the cup in front of me. It was orange juice. Stupid kids parties.


	3. Ron

Ron/Daphne.

I know I said these one-shots are unrelated, but I guess I lied a little? We're still in the same happy world of Hogwarts after the Deathly Hallows.

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><p>The King Strikes Again<p>

It wasn't love at first sight.

"No, I can't say that it was," Ron admitted to Harry one night in the common room. It was late, no one else was there, and the pair was waiting for Hermione to return from the library.

Harry muttered something.

Ron, thinking he heard him right, crossed his arms and leaned further back, a defensive posture.

"Yeah, yeah. It wasn't love at first sight, or the second. Or the first year. The next six years. But now it's different!" He insisted. He shook his head and a funny smile appeared on his face. "Blimey, Harry, I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's possible. It could happen to anybody."

Harry's jaw fell open. Ten seconds passed. Rather than stating the obvious ("She threw your drink at you and kept talking to Nott"), Harry opted to cheer his friend on this one.

"Do you know what you're going to tell her then? On the train?"

Ron ran a hand through his red hair, which had gotten quite long these past few weeks. "I've been thinking of some things, but none of them have been working."

Harry frowned. "You've tried?"

"Just _very_ recently..." He sighed. "Don't tell Hermione. It's bloody embarrassing."

**Two weeks ago**

Muggle Studies had just ended. Ron, who was taking his time arranging his book bag, had told Harry and Hermione to head off without him, he'll catch up.

This was the only class where Daphne Greengrass did not have any of her catty friends with her—Pansy in particular. When he was sure to be out of hearing distance from most of the others (the other Gryffindors, and _Malfoy_ of course), he quickly walked up to her. Within a few strides, there she was, her back to him, ignorant of the way his hands clammed up and his left leg felt shaky.

He gulped. _Say something, bloody idiot._

She'd pushed all her notes in her brown leather bag. She turned swiftly and almost bumped into him.

Daphne gasped. Her light brown eyes took on a confused look as she stared at him, silently demanding explanation.

"I..." he stammered, _badly_. "Please."

"What?" She shouldered her messenger bag's strap.

"Go out with... me?"

_You. Wanker._

Immediately, her face took on another level of surprise. "Oh!"

"Yes," he said, clarifying his intent.

"Weasley..." she said, uneasily. "No."

"Really?"

"Really." Then she smiled a bright and polite smile. "Bye."

All he could say to her retreating back was a prepubescent-boy-sounding, "Okay."

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><p>Harry coughed. "That didn't sound bad at all."<p>

"But Harry! I still like her!"

"But you don't want to be a complete weirdo and freak her out."

"What do I do?"

"Let her, cool off?"

"It's the end of the school year!"

"I don't know, ask Hermione!"

"She doesn't know how to catch girls!"

"Lovely to see you, too, Ronald," Hermione sang, which earned surprised looks from the two. She ignored their glances, and instead turned to Harry. "What are you two hiding from me now?"

A few meaningful looks passed between Harry and Ron.

Harry said, "You know Ron's infatuation with Daphne? Well he wants to act on it."

Hermione directed her gaze at Ron and grinned. "Oh, really?" But she quickly tamped down her shock when she saw Ron's blush turning scarlet. "Did something happen?" she asked plainly. She and Harry knew about Ron at the Slytherin party.

Ron shakily clenched his fist on his knees. "Well, there's nothing really to tell..."

"What made you like her?"

"She's... she's bloody hot."

She waited and then frowned. "That's it?" She turned to Harry. "Is it sad that I'm... _not_ disappointed by his reasoning?"

Harry smiled. "Well. This _is_ Ron we're talking about."

Ron shrugged good-naturedly.

"Well, of course she's also a decent person!" Ron added happily. "She smells like flowers all the time."

Hermione looked at Ron. "You know," she said, putting a finger on her lip, "I have a feeling this'll work out, actually."

Ron's ears turned red. "H-how?"

"It's simple." She grinned, a very sure grin that could only have been procured by prolonged exposure to a certain blond Slytherin.

The next morning, bright and early, Ronald Weasley was found standing in the courtyard. He was wearing a fantastic grin and a goofy light sweater, naturally. Students passed him by, giving the ginger some odd and amused looks.

The seventh year Slytherins always came out in packs. Malfoy led the boys, while Pansy Parkinson (yeah, he wasn't sure why, either) led the girls. As such, it was Pansy pug-face who saw him first.

Pansy wrinkled her nose. "Ew, what's Weasley up to now?"

Daphne saw Ron smiling at her. She froze on the spot, getting shoved at the shoulder by Millicent (who kept right on walking towards the Great Hall).

"Daphne," he called out, ruining any chances of getting away. Everyone stared back at her.

He was standing in the middle of the courtyard. Clearing his throat, he pulled out his wand and tapped. "_Accio_ guitar."

Daphne felt herself blush. He was going to sing in front of the whole school? She waited, uncomfortable but way too intrigued.

Ron frowned. Nothing was going his way (literally). He was two seconds away from making a fool of himself when Hermione, naturally, saved the day. She summoned the musical instrument and zoomed it to his arms. Giving a big thumbs up, Hermione mentally urged Ron to get on with it.

He cleared his throat. Swallowed. He _refused_ to close his eyes. Daphne was staring at him, a wary look in her gorgeous face.

The guitar strapped across his back, left hand at the appropriate chord (the G chord, as he and Hermione'd practiced and found the right key in which to play), his right hand engaged and he heard his voice echo throughout the courtyard.

"I could stay awake, just to _hear_ you breathing!"

Hermione beamed, looking very much the proud mother. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Aerosmith? Really?" he muttered to Hermione.

She quickly nudged her friend in the shoulder. "Oh, shush."

"Watch you smile while you are sleeping, while you're far away and dreaming..."

He concentrated on her. He could hear Malfoy and his cronies snickering in the background. He focused on Daphne. But she wasn't giving much of anything, much less a sign that she liked it.

Her face, her beautiful, shocked face, barely looked shocked. She was as impassive as the song was long.

And then he started playing some really nice sounding riffs. "I don't wanna close my eyes..."

Finnegan, who he'll forever remember as the best guy all around, started singing along in the chorus, and beckoned everyone else to join. Bolstered by the camaraderie and support, Ron started getting into it.

His fingers flailed wildly, but with rhythm, and he slowly made his way closer to Daphne.

Pug-face, whose pug-face was screwed up into distaste, grudgingly backed away as Ron approached within five feet of their little group. And then, like the waves being called back to sea, the other Slytherin girls made way, forming a path for him to follow, a direction of Slytherin green ties that led to her.

_This is stupid_, Daphne thought, her mind frantic as _everyone_ looked at her. Trust Weasley to put her on the spot like this!

He was closing in on her now, and the thing to do, to embarrass him and _not_ her, would be to run, to flee, to run around and just bolt; she stayed.

And then smiled.

Ron grinned at that, missed a lyric, and then continued playing.


End file.
